


It's a lovely sight!

by TheKats



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, lighthouse au, look there was a prompt on tumblr and I took the challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 02:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16296134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKats/pseuds/TheKats
Summary: This little ficlet sprouted from a post over on tumblr by user honkforhankcon. You can find it here at https://honkforhankcon.tumblr.com/post/179027639419/thekats-honkforhankcon-hold-the-phone-does (Is there a way to do links here?) Go show them some loovvvve (be aware it's an "adult content" blog, though)





	It's a lovely sight!

**Author's Note:**

> This little ficlet sprouted from a post over on tumblr by user honkforhankcon. You can find it here at https://honkforhankcon.tumblr.com/post/179027639419/thekats-honkforhankcon-hold-the-phone-does (Is there a way to do links here?) Go show them some loovvvve (be aware it's an "adult content" blog, though)

‘You should go down the beach, it’s a lovely sight’ she had said. Connor thought she hadn’t realised he, as an android, has no real concept of beauty. It hardly mattered. All his belongings were already stored away and he had a dozen things left to do that he’d rather not at the moment. Who knew freedom came with so much spare time and so little interest in mundane tasks?

Might as well. He looked out his kitchen window. It was a sunny autumn day and still very warm for the time of year. Lately the weather had been very indecisive and humans complained a lot about fluctuating temperatures. Connor estimated it was warm enough to wear some sandals, bermuda shorts and a short-sleeved shirt without receiving too many odd glances.

Locking the door behind him, he made his way down to the coast. Ten minute walk. He liked walking, he thought. It was a physical activity that didn’t require too much mental alertness but provided information on his surroundings. He saw a few people walking their dogs and avoided them as best he could without being awfully awkward. He just didn’t feel like getting to know his neighbours. At least not yet.

When he could finally hear the beach from a distance, the waves lapping at the rocky shore, he felt a pleasant jolt in his chest. He didn’t know why he was so eager to see the ocean, but the feeling was definitely there.   
He walked until he could sit right above the crashing waves. It was some time into low tide, it seemed. Letting his view roam the horizon, he noted the town that got more densely populated towards the coast on the left, the ships far out on the water in front, and the lighthouse a good few miles to his right.  
He didn’t know what it was about this place, but his landlady’s words rang through his mind. ‘It’s a lovely sight.’ It was completely irrational and he loved it. The sound of the water, the view of the sun above the horizon, the warmth of the stones beneath his palms. It was… comforting. Grounding, in a way. 

“SUMO, come the fuck back here!”

“RUFF!”

Connor looked around to his right again, where a large St Bernard dog was galloping in his direction. In the distance he could make out a middle-aged, chubby, gray-haired, bearded man struggling to catch up in a pair of wellies that didn’t seem to aid his efforts much.   
Connor had half a mind to get up and flee the confrontation, but the dog was quick at his side and he lost the fight against those kind brown eyes in less than five seconds. “Hello,” he said instead, letting it sniff at his face and hand. Connor didn’t expect it to find much of a smell anywhere on him - he wasn’t organic tissue after all.

“Sumo, stop harassing strangers, damn it, how many times-?” The owner finally caught up. “Sorry about that,” he said, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath, “bit of an extrovert that one.”

“That’s okay. I knew I couldn’t avoid people all day.” Connor reached up with one hand, cautiously running his fingers over the dog’s head. When Sumo didn’t protest, he slowly got more confident.

“Why not? I usually don’t. Sumo always does the meeting people for me.” Connor smiled from the man down to at dog. “Hank,” said the human, extending one hand for Connor to shake.

“Connor.”

Hank nodded, moving to sit with him, Sumo between them. “You new around here?”

Sumo let Connor scratch his head for a bit longer before giving Hank a hearty sniff and then padding off, nose on the ground, tail wagging. “Just moved here today.”

Hank made an understanding noise. He had one leg propped up on the rock and an arm draped over the knee, body leaning backwards supported by his remaining left arm. His chin-length hair was wavy from the salty, humid air. Connor thought he might have just discovered his model for aesthetics. “Calm choice for an android.”

“Yes. After all the chaos of the revolution I wanted some place quiet and secluded. Somewhere I wouldn’t have to be around a lot of people all the time,” he explained, still looking at Hank at an angle.

“Well, in that case you came to the right place,” the human answered, turning to him and giving him a crooked smile. “I, er, run the lighthouse down there, came here three years ago when I needed some quiet.” Suddenly Hank grew silent and Connor recognised some trauma underlying this change. As he was looking back out onto the sea, he continued in a lower voice, “now I sometimes feel like the silence is crushing me…” As if realising the other man was still sitting beside him, Hank drew in a breath, shifted his eyes between Connor and the ocean self-consciously and spoke louder again. “So, uh, feel free to knock on my door if you ever feel that may be happening to you, okay?”

Connor didn’t quite know what to do or say. They’d just met and Hank was inviting him into his home because he felt awkward. It was a little endearing and a little creepy. “Okay,” he answered just for the sake of it.

Hank remained sitting for a bit, awkwardly nodding and fidgeting. “Right,” he mutteres multiple times, then got up again. He held his hand out for Connor once more, clasped the answering limb in what was likely meant as a distanced but warm gesture and said “well, you have a good day then, Connor, Sumo and I oughtta be on our way. See ya, er… some time,” and they left.

Connor soon made his way back as well and kept weighing pros and cons for whether or not to talk to that man again. Each time he found a rare argument against it, he was met with a sort of wall that was so irrational and insistent, it rendered all logic-establishing programs in his software ineffective by simply static ‘but it was kind of sweet.’ Eventually he gave up. Hank was a weird one, but so was he and if a man could be both this socially inadequate and warm, he deserved another chance. And regardless, Connor wanted to go back to that ‘lovely sight.’

 

And so he went back out there each day. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening. Sometimes staying for hours, sometimes leaving after a few minutes. Sometimes meeting Hank there, sometimes not. 

But the times he ran into Hank were his favourite. The man could tell so much by talking very little. By their fourth meeting Connor knew they were interested in each other beyond friendly neighbourhood conversation and Hank caught on soon enough. There were days when he and Sumo would sit with him forever and Hank explained stuff about shipping to him just for the sake of making noise when Connor said he was having a bad day.

“When low tide peaks, you can go down to the sand bank and lie there for a couple hours. Some people collect pebbles or sea shells,” he’d told Connor once and then sat with him for 3 hours just so they could watch the water going all the way back together.

Sometimes Hank was having a bad day. He’d lost his son and wife in a car accident before coming out there and when things got ‘too quiet’ he’d be overwhelmed with grief again. Connor let him rest against his shoulder then or with his head on his chest as they laid on the ground, holding him close.

As the days grew colder, they tended to retreat into the lighthouse more. In fact, Connor went home less and less often. He liked going all the way up, wrapping himself and Hank in blankets and cuddling, looking out to the sea, Sumo at their feet, dozing. 

“Can you drink?” Hank had asked him once when winter had started crawling in on them.

“You mean in general? No, I don’t have any way to digest it.”

“That’s sad, actually. Because let me tell you: Nothing fucking beats hot chocolate in this kind of weather,” Hank declared, pointedly taking a sip from his mug.

Connor smiled. “I’d beg to differ,” he replied. Once he had Hank’s full attention, he kissed him and won the argument without further protest.

**Author's Note:**

> If y'all have any ideas like these, feel free to hit me up (here or on tumblr). I still have my main hannor/hankcon fic in the works, but I enjoy taking little breaks to... write more hannor... yeah, I'm a mess for them ^^'


End file.
